Land of Dreams

4 / 10

In an attempt to provide an insight into the life of immigrants and Natives in America through a demographic examination of dreams and memories, directors Shirin Neshat and Shoja Azari present their Land of Dreams which portraits the journey of Simin Hakak (Sheila Vond), a lone Iranian immigrant who works as a ‘dreamcatcher’ for the US census bureau. She has to interview different people across the United States about their personal data, but the concluding question revolves around a recorded recap of the individual’s latest dream. These dreams are stored on a transparent, glass-like chip which are later uploaded onto the bureau’s servers. With each interviewee, Simin copies their dreams, but also uses them for her own by imitating each one of them with the appropriate clothing, behavior and a translation of the dream into Farsi. She embarks on a demographic tour, but a more difficult mission awaits her as she has to ask an elder Iranian man from an isolated village located in the desert. Not only are they reluctant to take part in the census, she gets confronted with the memories of Iranian rebels and her past which prompts her to question her purpose and the objective for the bureau.

Gathering, translating and exploiting memories to hold the diverse citizens of America captive – Land of Dreams is a scattered persiflage of the American Dream or the ‘promised land’ for Mexicans, Iranians, Native Americans and other nationalities which the condensed group of interviewees represents. With definite nods to Rememory and Minority Report regarding the futuristic storage and playback of dreams on servers and transparent laptops, Neshat and Azari lay out a bunch of ideas which characterize the various ways of how people hang on to their dreams and how the life in the United States has flattened them. The concept has a huge problem though as everything in this film not only feels off, but also loose: From Michael Brook’s atonal-driven score accompanying the mysterious floors and rooms of the US census bureau, the interview of America’s diverse demographic to the presentation of a fictional social media platform and a strange behavior from the sidekicks Alan and Mark (Matt Dillon and William Moseley) who join Simin’s interview tour later on. The directors show one idea and quickly hop over to the next one, but each one of them isn’t thoroughly connected as the leitmotif of personal dreams, which are worthy of protection, just doesn’t tie the story up that well.

The disconnected ideas consequently lead to a disorientation of the actors who give a solid performance under these circumstances, but you don’t really know what the purpose of each character is. Sheila Vand’s Simin simultaneously looks curious, stoic and introverted, a perfect requirement for a dreamcatcher, but her mimics prevent a peek into her mindset. Does she like the job? Why did she start working in the bureau? Why is she presenting other people’s dreams on social media in Farsi? Does she want to give Iranians an overview of the state of the American population? An answer to all of these questions is missing. Her sidekick Alan, who joins her as a bodyguard, makes sure that she can extract the dreams of each individual safely, implying the bureau’s priority of getting that information. Leisure time traveler Mark on the other hand weirdly spawns to one set piece after another, declares himself as Simin’s ‘love interest’ and repeatedly comes into conflict with Alan due to Mark’s urging thought of having a long-lasting relationship with her, despite knowing her for such a short amount of time. Does he want to jeopardize the bureau’s objective? Does he want to get hold of Simin’s memories for his own purposes? Why is he always on the road? His existence in the story fizzles out towards the end.

Where does Simin interview the people? The desert valley and the various shapes of buildings the trio encounters give off the impression that she either imagines this multi-cultural adventure or it is really a part of the future-set reality. The questions keep piling up and not in a good way. The confusion reaches its peak when Simin gets confronted with her imitation of other people’s dreams which she uploaded onto the fictional social media platform Quantum Media. Her rebellious nature comes to light as she wants to preserve the dreams of each American individual, but every event beforehand does not naturally build up to her act of resistance. In the finale, Simin creates an expanding spiral, made out of the photos from interviewees that she met over the course of the job, outside in no-man’s-land. The camera rotates to create a hypnotic fading effect, but this facial expression of feeling lost could be an apt reaction to the whole picture.

Shirin Neshat’s and Shoja Azari’s Land of Dreams is a neuronal network-shaped mind map of ideas which are barely connected, ironically displaying the fading dreams of immigrants, Native and black American people. Too artsy at times and stumbling over its own feet, this sci-fi satire shows their isolated memories and incentives, shying away from the American Dream, while it isn’t clear at what the film is aiming for. Is Christianity the perpetrator of streamlined ambitions and limited religious freedom for minorities? Is the census bureau absorbing their identities in order to imprison minorities in the American way of life? If the answer is yes to all of this, then this intention is hidden behind a strange assembly of actors with sidekicks floating somewhere in the room, an unprecise inclusion of social media and locations which feel too on the nose for the cultural presentation and political commentary.

Review published on 23rd August 2022.